


Bonfires

by EllanaSan



Series: Hayffieween 2020 [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Bonfires, F/M, Halloween, Post-Book 3: Mockingjay, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27206365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: There were no orange and black garlands, no carved pumpkins, no costumes, no trick-and-treating and no outrageous parties around here but Effie found she enjoyed the simpler traditions all the same. It was sad how Capitols had looked down at the Districts and judged them barbaric for decades – some still did – when there was, in fact, a lot of beauty in their ways, rustic as they might appear. It was a diamond in the rough, the pearl inside the coal…
Relationships: Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket
Series: Hayffieween 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983499
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	Bonfires

**Author's Note:**

> Next stop in our Hayffieween weeks is a little post MJ something. I hope you will enjoy it! (They actually behaved in this one and didn’t try to jump each other, you will soon notice that is a trend this week XD)

“Careful, it’s slippery.” Haymitch half-warned, half-chided, as they slowly made their way down the muddy slope that led to the former Victors’ Village.

Effie peered harder at the path in the twilight but eventually accepted his arm when he offered it to her to steady herself.

She had left her heels in her suitcase, preferring the hiking boots she had borrowed from Katniss so long ago and never handed back, but even in the sturdier shoes it was difficult to navigate around Twelve in the dark. Not that she usually did a lot of exploring the District after sunset… The darkness wasn’t too oppressive outside, not with the ocean of twinkling stars over their heads, but she still wasn’t entirely at ease.

Haymitch’s arm was a good way to ground herself, to remind herself that she could feel the wind on her face, that she could smell humid earth from when it had rained earlier that day, that she could see small groups of people trickling out of town in the distance… It was dark, yes, but she wasn’t trapped. She was free.

She pressed a little closer to Haymitch’s side to fight a shiver anyway. She could feel his grey eyes discreetly studying her, probably trying to figure out if she was cold or scared. It was fair, she supposed, panic attacks were still common occurrences even if it had gotten better in the last couple of months. She had become good at handling them, at working around triggers, at swimming her way back to shore when she drowned in the flashbacks. In this instance, she was cold and not scared though.

She was glad she had taken the girl’s advice and switched her pretty dress for a pair of fitted black trousers and an apple green sweater. She was even gladder she had grabbed her old frayed pink coat on the way out.

Haymitch kept telling her she needed another one because that one wouldn’t serve her well in winter, that Twelve was colder than she was used to. For an October night, though, it should have been enough.

It probably _would_ have been enough for anyone else but ever since the war she was always cold. It came from within.

“Do you think they will manage to light a fire?” she asked as they reached a crossroad and joined larger groups of people on their way to the meadow.

They were joyful, all those people. Some were laughing, children were skipping ahead, playing together… More than a few called out a friendly greeting to Haymitch… Almost all of them watched her with a mix of curiosity and wariness…

It was better than outright hostility and she forced herself to smile every time someone made eye contact. Twelve’s citizens had _grudgingly_ accepted the fact she was temporarily living with Haymitch. They didn’t refuse to serve her in their shops and, so far, nobody had spat at her, threatened her or attacked her in the street so it was better than what she had gotten used to in the city. She could handle a bit of curious wariness. It was the best alternative.

“Hope so or we’ll have frozen our ass out here for nothing.” he grumbled.

An act, mostly, she figured, because he was the one who had suggested the outing.

Katniss had made it clear she was _not_ going anywhere near a huge pile of flaming woods and Peeta had opted to stay behind with her.

“We never had bonfires for Halloween in the city.” she hummed.

“It’s old tradition, I guess… Like the candle thing.” he explained.

People in Twelve lit a candle for each of their dead and left them behind a window at Halloween – or _Samhain_ , as they called it around those parts – it was supposed to show them the way home. Haymitch had told her he never did anything special to mark the day but Katniss and Peeta had each lit a handful of candles and… There had been a lump in her throat when she had caught the dancing flickering flames on their way out of the house.

There were no orange and black garlands, no carved pumpkins, no costumes, no trick-and-treating and no outrageous parties around here but Effie found she enjoyed the simpler traditions all the same. It was sad how Capitols had looked down at the Districts and judged them barbaric for decades – some still did – when there was, in fact, a lot of beauty in their ways, rustic as they might appear. It was a diamond in the rough, the pearl inside the coal…

“People used to think bonfires would protect them against evil spirits or whatever…” he continued. “It’s old superstitions. If you take an ember from the bonfire and bring it back home, use it in your own hearth, it’s supposed to be good luck all year around.”

“Oh… Are we doing that?” she asked. They hadn’t brought anything to carry a hot piece of coal back but it explained why some people were carrying small metal boxes or buckets.

He shot her an amused look. “We can if you want…”

She was distracted from his answer by their sudden arrival to the meadow. She was always uncomfortably aware that it was a mass grave. The grass had come back and covered it all but thousands of people had been laid to rest under her feet and she had nightmares about that. It felt disrespectful to walk there. And yet people were mingling around, children were playing together, there were carts with people selling hot drinks, sweets, or paper lanterns that flew away when you lit a candle inside…

There were three tall structures made entirely of huge logs…

The mayor had just started his speech but Effie heard none of it, steeling her nerves and reminding herself ghosts didn’t exist and nobody would come back to haunt if she did like everyone else and stepped onto the meadow. Haymitch patiently waited for her to make up her mind, more aware than she liked of the content of some of her nightmares.

By the time they finally approached one of the structures, someone had brought a torch close enough to it that it suddenly caught fire. She identified the telltale smell of gasoline in the air and she figured the logs had been generously dosed with it so the fire would catch despite the humidity. She clapped with everyone else, a small smile on her lips at the simple joy a roaring fire could bring.

Haymitch disappeared from her side for a moment and reappeared with two greasy paper cones full of roasted chestnuts.

“Always loved that.” he explained. “My friends and I got all our spare change together once when I was a kid and shared a cone…” He shrugged the bittersweet memory away. “Best part of the bonfire, sweetheart.”

She accepted her paper cone with a grateful smile and they found a quiet place to sit and watch. Silence stretched between them but it was comfortable, like often. The happy shouts of the children, the loud popping of the logs, the laughter… It was enough of a background noise.

A few people started singing in the distance, some sort of ballad… Instruments were fetched and it turned into an improvised concert… People started to dance Twelve’s complicated country dances…

She tried to remember the last time Haymitch and her had danced. She thought it was at the Victory Tour Ball… Briefly, she wondered if that would be their last waltz. She hoped not. She loved waltzing with him. He was surprisingly good at it after more than two decades of practice.

Those dances weren’t textbook ballroom ones though and she truly didn’t know how they worked so she didn’t even suggest they could try it. It wouldn’t have stopped her once upon a time. She would have gone out there, laughed and twirled until everyone was looking at her, _admired_ her…

It was easier to fade into the background nowadays. You attracted less attention that way and less attention meant less chances of someone calling you out for who you used to be.

“I have been in Twelve for almost six months.” she told him, aiming for casualness, before popping a chestnut in her mouth.

Haymitch had already finished his. The paper cone laid crumpled on his lap. “Yeah.”

It was hard to interpret his tone and she wasn’t sure she wanted to try anyway.

“I am _much_ better now.” she ventured. She had been a mess when she had showed unannounced on his doorstep. A drowned rat from the pouring rain, full of debts, close to suicidal, unable to deal with the trauma she had done her best to repress… She had spent weeks hiding in his guest room, _in the wardrobe_ , sometimes unable to speak for days at a time… He had provided her with a safe place to crash, had coaxed her through the worst of it, had helped her build herself back up, had even helped her find ways to muddle through the episodes… She was a functional human being again because of the care he had showed her and she would forever be grateful for it because, despite what he believed, he didn’t owe her anything. “I wanted to thank you for that.”

“Don’t be stupid.” he dismissed, covering her hand with his.

She entwined their fingers out of reflex and stared at them where they rested on her lap.

“Six months is a long time for an unplanned visit though. I think… I think I probably should…” She hesitated. She had meant to talk to him about that for weeks, she had been planning to broach the subject that night ever since the children had declined coming along, but she wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. She didn’t want to appear ungrateful. She just…

His whole body tensed so badly she could feel it where they were pressed together. 

His hand tightened around hers.

“You wanna go back to the city?” he asked, half-incredulous and half-angry.

“ _No_.” she immediately countered, suppressing another shiver. The city… Getting out of the Capitol had been the _smartest_ thing she had done since the war even if she had done out of desperation and not because she had _realized_ that. It wasn’t a good place for her and she knew that if she went back there, all the progress she had made would shrink away until she became a shell of herself once more. The Capitol had a way of swallowing fragile people and spitting them back in pieces. “Not the city, no… Johanna and Annie have been asking me to visit, you know… Jo says there might be work for a seamstress in Four…”

“There’s work for a seamstress here too.” he retorted quickly. “I told you I’d give you the money if you wanna try to open a shop or…”

“I won’t take any more of your money.” she cut him off and then winced because it sounded _harsh_. “I am grateful for your help, Haymitch, I _am_. But I owe you a lot already and…”

“You don’t owe me _shit_.” he scoffed, gently squeezing her fingers. “I told you.”

He had covered all her debts and it had been _a lot_ of money. She knew he had barely touched his victor stipend all those years and that he had comfortable savings but she still wasn’t at ease accepting his help when it came to money. She was used to being independent. She was used to paying her own way. She was used to _earning_ her own way.

It offended him when she talked about paying him back so she had stopped mentioning it but she downright refused to borrow more for an uncertain business venture that might become a burden and his ruin.

“Look, the only way I _am_ opening a shop is by saving enough money first.” she argued. “I would need to build a clientele and that meant people coming to _me_ at first, working from home, and…”

“So, what?” he grumbled. “I’m fine with it. You can have the study, even. Turn it onto a workshop. I never use it. Don’t see why you’ve got to go to Four for that.”

She didn’t _want_ to go to Four.

It was just…

She licked her lips.

“I know you like your privacy…” she insisted.

“Ain’t like you’re gonna have ten customers over at the same time.” he argued. “There’s enough room in the house for me not to see anyone I don’t wanna see.”

She stared at the black smoke rising from the bonfire, searching for the right words. The last thing she wanted was to make a mess of this but they had a knack for misunderstanding each other. “I am not _just_ talking about working as a seamstress and having people over… I have been living with you for six months and I did not exactly give you much of a choice about that… I showed up uninvited and you were kind enough not to kick me out but… I imposed enough and I…”

“Ain’t imposing at all.” he interrupted with another scoff. “If I didn’t want you here, I’d have said.”

“You also never said you wanted me to stay.” she pointed out, her eyes falling to their still linked hands.

His gaze followed hers.

A part of her was marveling at the simple fact he was holding her hand _at all_ , never mind in public where _anyone_ could have seen if they had bothered to look at them.

“Didn’t know it needed _saying_.” he grumbled. “Sweetheart, you know I…” His sentence trailed of and, when she didn’t say anything, he frowned. “You _know_.”

She thought she did. _Sometimes_. Other times… He had spent so long telling her he would never feel anything for her that…

He squeezed her hand.

“Effie.”

She looked up at him and, when their eyes met, everything else disappeared. The bonfires, the people, the singing… It all vanished into a distant background.

She wasn’t used to the serious intensity in his grey eyes.

There was a small worried frown on his face.

“I _want_ you to stay.” he declared. “For good.”

She didn’t ask if he was sure because she knew if she turned this moment into a big thing he would panic – he might try to hide it from her but he _would_ panic. It was alright though. She knew the panic wasn’t about her. It was about what had happened to everyone he ever loved.

She didn’t have to force herself to smile and if her sight was a little blurry they could pretend it was because she had been staring at the fire too long.

“Well, then…” she joked. “Perhaps we should take home one of those embers… For luck.”

It never hurt to turn the odds in one’s favor…

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Let me know your thoughts!


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